


Take Care of Me (Baby I Know You Will)

by SlimeQueen



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff and Smut, M/M, and a lot of sex, there are many things going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 20:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/pseuds/SlimeQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like everything Yixing does just makes Jongdae like him more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I dont know what exactly this is but it needed to be done  
> Please do not steal or post my work on any other website without my permission. Thank you!

  1. _Kiss_



The morning is hazy, clouds curling like smoke and shadow over the city. Jongdae awakes to soft lips pressed flush against his neck and slender long-fingered hands leisurely stroking his belly. He doesn’t move, the rise and fall of his chest steady under Yixing’s touch.

They’ve long since abandoned the idea of sleeping separately, opting to squeeze together on Yixing’s bed. One of Jongdae’s legs hangs off the side so he tucks in back into the warmth of the blanket.

“You were thrashing around in your sleep.” Yixing murmurs into his Adams apple, voice like molasses. He draws his head back a little, but doesn’t move his hands.

Finally opening his eyes, Jongdae glances around at the dim room, awash with grey from the storm outside.

“Stormy weather.” Jongdae says shortly by way of explanation, then turns to face Yixing. He has his eyes shut, eyelids the color of pale twilight and contrasting against the sharp porcelain of his skin. He looks like the quintessential picture of innocence, dimple showing even when he’s not smiling, his hair curling gently onto his forehead. It makes Jongdae ache to even look at him.

So he doesn’t. Leaning forward on the pillow, he joins their lips languidly, tongue sliding into Yixing’s mouth indolently. Yixing kisses back immediately, warm mouth sliding against Jongdae’s until Jongdae thinks he’s going to pass out from the way Yixing sighs into his mouth, curling a hand around the curve of his torso.

Suddenly a bolt of thunder resonates and Jongdae startles so badly that he separates them.

“Skittish?” Yixing teases and Jongdae rolls his eyes. He isn’t easily unnerved but there’s a special place in hell for lightning storms in his opinion.

“Let me kiss it better.” Yixing focuses serious eyes on him but his mouth quirks up at the corner, offering a hint of dimple. Before Jongdae has time to process it, the mood has shifted and the grey shadows of the room seem more blackened. All semblance of sleep are wiped from his mind when he sees Yixing’s smile widen, pink lips stretched wide, eyes alight with something that has Jongdae’s stomach rolling.

Then Yixing is rolling on top of him and Jongdae welcomes the heavy warm weight, fingers curling gently against Yixing’s bare torso.

Jongdae feels the heat of his breath before the warm press of Yixing’s mouth against his forehead. His hands flutter gradually lower and lower until they reach the jutting bone of Jongdae’s hip, running a warm thumb over the ridge.

Then, a brief kiss to his temple that slides further down to the curve of his cheekbone. Yixing blows lightly in his ear and immediately a full body shiver resonates uncontrollably within him, starting in his chest and spreading out until he can feel the way his toes curl from the tingling sensation

Yixing’s movements are as fluid as always, lithe hips grinding down against Jongdae’s, mouthing along the line of his jaw, tongue sliding hot up the side of his neck until Jongdae thinks he could come undone from this alone.

This is how Yixing works, mouth against every surface except Jongdae’s own, until he’s practically begging to be kissed properly, and only then, when pleaded with, will Yixing fully press their lips together.

“X-xing-ge,” The name comes out breathy and ragged as Yixing nips at the skin sensitive underneath the back of his ear.

“Say my name again,” Yixing sighs into the shell of his ear, hips quickening their pace. He slinks a hand down between their bodies to stroke idly at Jongdae’s restlessly moving thighs.

“ _Yixing_.” Jongdae enunciates, and his voice has deteriorated into a broken whine, but he doesn’t care because f _inally_ Yixing wraps a steady hand around the base of his cock and strokes up, just once.

“Jongdae, Jongdae,” Yixing repeats his name quietly with the conviction of a mantra, fingers sliding up to his own mouth to taste, hips jerking when he touches his tongue. Then he’s licking a broad stripe up the flat of his palm and plunges it back down in the small space that separates them, wrapping his fingers around the warm skin.

Jongdae arches into him, brain foggy and vision blurred. All he can feel is Yixing’s body against his, warm and lean. All he can taste is Yixing, all he can hear is the quick breath in his ear as Yixing’s breath speeds up.

Then he’s kissing up Jongdae’s neck to his chin, leaving a hot trail up the underside of Jongdae’s jaw when he throws his head back.

“Xing-ge,” he repeats, voice rough, “Kiss me, kiss me for real.”

Yixing looks down at him, and Jongdae suddenly feel too hot, face flushing red. The heat from Yixing’s stare circulates through him until he feels like he’s going to explode if Yixing doesn’t kiss him _soon_.

He can feel the tugging sensation in his belly expand further when Yixing jerks his hand _just so,_ mouth leaving a path of fire along Jongdae’s collarbone.

“Kiss you? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” Yixing gestures to the ample amount of reddened skin on his torso and throat that would surely darken into blueberry bruises juxtapose the alabaster and ivory of his complexion.

“On the lips, please,” Jongdae near pleads, hands curling so far into themselves that the blunt ends of his nails dig in almost painfully to his palm. He attempts to lift his head to Yixing’s but Yixing presses down on his chest with more pressure, tongue trailing over the line of his jaw.

Then _finally,_ Yixing gently cups Jongdae’s face in his free hand and lifts until their noses are practically touching.

“You’re cute.” Yixing announces, then kisses him with such fervor that Jongdae’s eyes start to roll back in his head, hips shifting to press more fully into the tight fist of Yixing’s hand. Jongdae makes a desperate noise, teeth scraping Yixing’s bottom lip in his attempt to deepen it. His legs flex hard, joints straightening because it only takes a few seconds for Jongdae to cry out sharply, coming undone, streaking hot up his stomach and chest.

Jongdae’s body goes pliant and loose under the long line of Yixing’s body, deep sigh reverberating from his chest. Yixing follows a second later, coming with a shuddery breath and a splatter of heat up their close-pressed chests.

Jongdae lets out a sharp huff of air when he gets the wind knocked out of him by Yixing’s suddenly collapsing body but laughs breathily at the feeling of Yixing pressing his face into the junction of his shoulder.

“Sated?” he asks, wriggling a bit under the bigger body. Yixing doesn’t respond, instead opting to wrap his limbs around Jongdae until Jongdae is sure he won’t be able to get up easily.

“Let’s not get up today.” Yixing mumbles after a short amount of time, fingers stroking idly at Jongdae’s sides.

“Minseok’s gonna be pissed off you didn’t make breakfast.” Jongdae warns.

Yixing finally rolls off him and gives him a sleepy smile. The dark shadows of the room wash over their bodies, highlighting and contouring their faces and turning the indent of his dimple black, and Jongdae wants so badly to poke it. “That’s Minseok’s problem.”

Jongdae turns this concept over in his head and raises an eyebrow. “Okay. I guess we’re not getting out of bed today.”

Yixing’s answering kiss is exactly what he’d been hoping for.


	2. Drunk

_2._ _Drunk_

The world is like a kaleidoscope. Honestly. Jongdae could be floating up to the ceiling right now, for all he can perceive. The lurid red and venomous green of the flashing lights dye the insides of his eyelids and the pounding of the music feels like a second heart beat in his chest.

Jongdae is so fucking wasted.

Snapback askew, eyeliner smudged and running down his face in pitiful streaks, overly wide grin adorned with red lip gloss that Baekhyun slicked onto his mouth earlier in the evening.

Baekhyun has long since slipped away quietly with Chanyeol to do who knows what, leaving Jongdae to drown himself in shots of something electric blue that burns on the way down. Sehun insists it’s not vodka, but he’s off his ass drunk as well so Jongdae isn’t taking that to heart.

“Are you really going to drink that?” The voice interrupts Jongdae’s awful attempt at moving his aching head to the beat of the next song.

Jongdae doesn’t even have to turn. Junmyeon is standing there with all the responsible presence of a parent, eyebrows raised in distaste at the glass of violently orange liquid in Jongdae’s hand.

“I wasn’t aware that I’m not allowed to drink, Mother.” Jongdae grins and Junmyeon shakes his head, slinking onto the barstool next to him.

“You’re going to get sick. I don’t want any photos of you drunk and making a fool of yourself on the internet tomorrow.” He has to nearly shout to be heard over the pounding bass.

“I’m not that drunk,” Jongdae insists, but Junmyeon’s disproving face is beginning to look shaky around the edges. “Maybe you’re just very blurry today.”

“I hate you.” Junmyeon wails, “I hate all of you.”

“As is the tragedy of your life.” Jongdae says sagely, holding a serious face for about a second before dissolving into giggles. “You know you love us, hyung.”

Junmyeon shakes his head and fishes his phone out of his pocket. For someone who was about as tall as a hobbit and looked distressed all the time, he sure gave off a serious aura.

“I’m telling Yixing to take you home.”

Jongdae tries to whine in protest but a sudden wave of nausea racks through him. He shuts his eyes tight and waits for it to pass. Breathing through his nose, he opens his eyes again. Junmyeon is rolling his eyes and talking to Kyungsoo, who looks like he’s about to fall over from supporting a giggling Jongin.

“I actually hate all of you.” Junmyeon says again, and Jongin laughs even harder at that, burying his face in Kyungsoo’s neck. He waves off Jongin and Kyungsoo drags him off again.

“Where’s my Kyungsoo in shining armor?” Jongdae complains, trying to lean his head against Junmyeon’s shoulder, but he moves away last second.

“You called?” A dry voice answers. Junmyeon spins around quickly and Jongdae tries to do the same but ends up nearly falling over. He straightens with a laugh and looks up at Yixing’s slim frame and unimpressed face.

“I did.” Junmyeon interjects, relieved expression spreading over his features. “Take him home. Please.” He gestures to Jongdae, who slaps his hand away.

Yixing doesn’t ask any questions, extending a slender hand out to Jongdae, which he takes clumsily, winding his fingers around Yixing’s.

“Oh!” he gasps, lurching forward as he leaps off the barstool. Yixing immediately catches his wrist, holding him up precautiously.

“How much did he drink?” he asks Junmyeon who shrugs noncommittally and turns to face the bar again. Yixing sighs and starts making his way to the exit, maneuvering Jongdae in front of him. At this point, the lights reflecting off Yixing’s face are vivid like fever dreams to Jongdae. He wants to touch the fluorescent blues and reds of Yixing’s neck, the splotches of dark purple, too vibrant to be bruises.

“Xing-ge, Xing-geeee,” and to Jongdae’s surprise, his voice comes out whinier than he’d expected.

“Yes?” Yixing sounds slightly amused, smile curling at the corner of his lip. Jongdae wants to lick it. Suddenly it’s hard for him to think about anything other than the way the lean muscles in Yixing’s arms jump when he tightens his grip on Jongdae’s hip. Then he’s overly aware of the hand on his hip, fingers brushing under the hem of his shirt against his bare skin whenever he has to shift to move through the crowd.

“We’re going home, right?” He’s aware the words come out slurred but Yixing seems to understand because he nods, mouth pressed in a tight line to keep from grinning.

Then they’re at the entrance and Yixing holds the door open long enough for him to stumble out tripping over his own feet.

The night air feels good on his neck, cooling the sweat covered skin. He grins hazily at Yixing who takes his hand and starts herding him into a cab.

The ride home is silent but Yixing strokes his hair with long delicate fingers so he doesn’t mind, pressing into his hyung’s side.

As soon as they get up to the dorm, Yixing’s pointing to his room and telling him to go to bed. The still empty apartment is disorienting after the dark club and cab. The silence feels strange to his ears.

He staggers to his room with some difficulty, throwing off his shirt, stripping off the tight jeans Chanyeol had forced him into. He collapses on Yixing’s bed, waves of dizziness washing over him until he needs to turn the light off.

“I’m going to let you sleep but drink this first.” Jongdae struggles to turn his head as it causes another bout of dysphoria. Yixing walks into the room holding a glass of water and makes him sit up slowly.

“Careful next time, yeah?” Yixing says and presses a kiss to his temple and Jongdae flushes with embarrassment because _ew_ he’s sweaty and disgusting but Yixing’s still kissing him like it doesn’t bother him.

“Baby, baby can you drink this for me?” Yixing asks, voice going soft with concern. Jongdae nods, taking the glass and drinking down the contents quickly then hands it back. Yixing’s voice sounds so tender and serene when he gets like this, and it makes Jongdae ache all the way down to his core, and he’d definitely be acting on it right now if he wasn’t feeling like the slime at the bottom of a dumpster.

“Xing-ge,” Jongdae says pleasantly, fingers curling softly into the front of Yixing’s shirt. Yixing makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement, looking down at him tiredly.

“I’m going to throw up.”

Then he’s leaping for the bathroom, making to the toilet as the first rush of nausea spreads through him. He’s aware that he left the door open and Yixing’s going to get an eyeful of him vomiting up his entire stomachs contents, but he can’t focus because of the acidic feeling in his throat, stomach lurching dangerously. He vomits for what feels like seconds or hours- Jongdae’s sense of everything, including time, feels off.

Yixing’s behind him in an instant, cool fingers brushing the back of his neck, soothing the overheated skin, murmuring gently as he works his hands down the curve of Jongdae’s back.

“I-I’m sorry,” Jongdae gets out, shakily trying to get to his feet. He makes a surprised noise when his knees give and he sinks back down on the cold tile floor.

Yixing hushes him and helps him up, keeping an arm firmly around his waist the whole time as he guides Jongdae back to bed. He grabs the glass off the dresser and pecks Jongdae on the cheek once.

“I’m going to get you more water, okay?” Thin fingers brush damp clumps of hair off his forehead, and then Yixing’s gone briefly before he comes back with the refilled glass.

He sips this one more precautiously this time, letting it wash out the nasty taste in his mouth. After he’s done he falls back onto the bed and tugs Yixing down with him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheekbone.

“Thank you.” He mumbles as graciously as he can before he passes out.

The next morning, Jongdae wakes up with a horrid aching in his head, throat feeling as if it has been hit with a sandstorm, eyes feeling as if they’d been glued shut.

“I’m never drinking again!” he moans quietly into the nape of Yixing’s neck. Yixing laughs in a deep way that Jongdae can feel rumbling through his chest and he amends his statement in his head.

_“I’m not drinking unless you’re there to take care of me.”_


	3. Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongdae is tiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last Chen/Lay drabble for this so enjoy :)

 3. Top

If Jongdae were to be asked, he’d say he was 173 centimeters exactly. If someone were to really look at Jongdae, they’d know he was lying.

Honestly, he's _tiny_ and he loves it. He loves the way Yifan or anyone else’s clothes drape off him, oversized and comfortable. He loves the way the sleeves of sweaters are too big on him. He loves the way he fits easily enough into the laps of everyone in Exo-M.

And definitely the added benefit of everyone constantly trying to take care of him and calling him cute and small.

So of course he milks it for all he’s worth, slim fingers against his chin, eyes widened, bottom lip pushed out just enough to be noticeable.

“Xing-ge, please _please_ make me something to eat!” Jongdae begs, batting his eyelashes and pouting for all he’s worth.

Immediately, Yixing’s standing up from his comfortable spot on the couch, much to the annoyance of Luhan, who had his head on Yixing’s shoulder.

“What do you want to eat?” Yixing asks, wrapping an arm around his waist so they can walk to the kitchen together. His arm goes all the way around Jongdae and it feels nice, being pressed into his side.

Jongdae shrugs, hopping up on the counter, letting his legs swing below. He picks at a loose thread in the sweater he has on. It had originally been Yifan’s but he’d stolen it a while back and Yifan had never gotten around to asking for it back. It’s huge on his petite frame, falling to the middle of his thighs, sleeves well past his hands.

“You look cute.” Yixing murmurs, moving to stand between his legs. Jongdae parts them to make more room and cocks his head in amusement.

“I always look cute.”

“How conceited.” Yixing smirks, but then leans forward to kiss him. Suddenly Jongdae’s not so hungry anymore. He’s taller sitting on the countertop, and oh, it’s so strange to have to lean down to kiss, but Jongdae likes it.

Yixing runs his tongue along the seam of Jongdae’s mouth so he opens it, letting Yixing deepen the kiss, his hands heavy and warm on Jongdae’s thin hips.

“I wish we could do it right here,” Jongdae breathes, “Or better yet, the table.”

Zitao makes a noise of disgust.

Immediately, Jongdae flinches back, eyes wide in surprise.

“You guys have to do that right there?” Zitao asks, shuffling past them to get to the fridge.

“Yes.” Yixing smirks again. He smacks Zitao’s ass lightly as he passes, smiling innocently when the maknae stiffens.

“You make it so obvious who the pitcher and the catcher are.” Zitao mumbles as he opens the refrigerator door.

“You don’t know that.” Jongdae complains, “I could totally be a top.”

Zitao and Yixing both laugh and Jongdae feels his cheeks heat up at that.

* * *

 

“Hyung, will you let me top tonight?”

Yixing freezes between his legs, eyes widening as he looks up at Jongdae’s face with a deer in the headlights look.

Jongdae manages to keep a straight face for about two seconds before he bursts out laughing, covering his face, shoulders shaking.

“You’re so mean.” Yixing pouts, smacking his thigh softly.

“You’re so dumb,” Jongdae counters and sticks his tongue out childishly. Then he leaps up and tackles Yixing down on the bed, pinning him down by sitting on his hips. He leans in and licks a quick stripe up Yixing’s cheek, blatantly ignoring the protests under him.

“Really though, would you let me if I asked seriously?” Jongdae watches through his eyelashes as Yixing considers.

“Would you actually ever ask that?” he finally asks doubtfully raising an eyebrow.

“I could.”

“Would not.”

“Would too!” Jongdae knows how immature he sounds but the way the corners of Yixing’s eyes crinkle when he laughs at Jongdae’s persistence makes it worthwhile.

“If you really wanted to, then I guess so?” Yixing sounds unsure so Jongdae bites him on the shoulder.

“Let me be on top tonight.” Jongdae says seriously. Yixing raises his eyebrows but this time Jongdae doesn’t waver.

“You want to put it in. For real?”

“Nah, but I’d like to be on top.”

He reclaims Yixing’s lips before he can make some confused remark and smoothly slides up until Yixing’s sitting and he’s in his lap.

“There are other ways to be on top.” Then he’s pushing Yixing down again by one hand firmly on his chest and sits up straighter. “There are _tons_ of ways.” He enunciates and rolls his hips down in a quick motion. The sharp hiss of air leaving Yixing’s mouth is all he needs to be self-assured.

“You’re evil,” Yixing mumbles, eyes fluttering shut, fingers reaching for the front of Jongdae’s shirt to tug him down into a kiss. Jongdae meets his mouth and smiles into it, pressing lingering kisses to his bottom lip,

“I never said I was good.” He whispers against Yixing’s mouth.

“That’s the problem,” he counters, “you’re definitely too good.” Then Yixing twists quickly, and Jongdae’s falling with a soft gasp onto the bed, fingers curling delicately into the thin material of Yixing’s shirt above him.

“That’s not fair, hyung, you’re much bigger than me.” Jongdae does his best aegyo face, and then tries to buck him off, but it’s too no avail as Yixing leans down over him to join their mouths again.

Jongdae’d never been that into making out before he had met Yixing. It was more about the _action_ than the _re_ action, messily jerking off and pushing fingers hastily into his ass, nipping at throats and rutting his hips. Then Yixing had come along with his slender fingers and careful hands, touching him _everywhere_ but where he’d needed it most, pressing gentle kisses to his lips and jaw, tongue sweeping over his neck until Jongdae’s nerves were on fire and he’d practically sobbed as he fell apart.

“Do you really want to top?” he hears murmured into his ear, and he nods eagerly.

Yixing sighs exaggeratedly and sits up and then reclines back on his forearms, letting Jongdae crawl onto his slim hips. Jongdae smiles widely and kisses his dimple, then whispers, “Take your clothes off.”

“ _’Take your clothes off’,”_ Yixing mimics dryly, “How romantic.”

Despite his sarcasm, he arches off the bed and pulls his shirt off, disheveling his wavy hair in the process. He wriggles under Jongdae for a few seconds before looking up at him pointedly, “It would help if you pulled those down for me.”

Jongdae unbuttons the front of Yixing’s jeans and drags them down his thighs and then reaches to take off his own shirt, letting it pile with Yixing’s on the floor.

“Get the lube and a condom,” Yixing reminds gently when he starts circling his hips in anticipation.

Jongdae springs off him in his haste to get to the sock drawer where they keep their lube and is back in a second with both things, which he hands graciously to Yixing before settling on top of him again.

“Do you want me to do it myself?” he asks, gesturing vaguely at the lubricant. Sometimes Yixing stretches him open himself, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, fingers slow inside him, and other times he likes to watch Jongdae open himself up, legs spread, tiny desperate whimpers sliding out of his mouth.

“I’ll do it.” Yixing takes both items from him and pops open the cap on the bottle before pouring an ample amount into his non-dominant palm, dipping two fingers from his other hand into the liquid until he realizes, “This angle isn’t gonna work.”

Jongdae makes a frustrated noise and says, “Sit up.”

As soon as Yixing’s done so, Jongdae crawls between his muscular legs, fitting easily into his lap and hooks his chin around Yixing’s shoulder, arching his back so Yixing can reach his ass.

“Do it, come on Xing-ge, hurry the fuck _up_.” He groans, hips jumping at the first touch of Yixing’s finger pressing into him.

“Calm down, Jongdae.” Jongdae can’t see his face but he can picture the way Yixing’s rolling his eyes perfectly in his mind.

Yixing slides it in slowly, working his way through until he’s knuckle-deep inside, pausing to mouth at Jongdae’s jaw. He coaxes Jongdae’s legs open a little more and pushes the tip of another finger in.

“Can you, like, move them to the left a little?” Jongdae asks, and his voice sounds dazed even to himself. Yixing makes a small noise in his throat and complies, fingers shifting quickly. Jongdae nearly hisses, grinding back against him.

“Oh my _god,_ right fucking there,” he pants into Yixing’s ear, hands gripping the sheets under him tightly until his knuckles burn.

“Jongdae,” Yixing says, voice amused, “You’re so cute it hurts me.”

Jongdae can’t help the smile that blooms over his face at that and he releases the sheets to wrap his arms around Yixing’s torso and squeezes affectionately.

“You’re just a sweet-talker,” he accuses, but then he moans when Yixing pushes another finger into him slowly. He tilts his head so it rests against Yixing’s long neck and closes his eyes lightly.

“It’s the truth.” Yixing assures, laughing breathily, and then uses his free hand to tug him back to face him so he can press their lips together again.

Yixing always kisses him like Jongdae is the only one that matters to him, stroking down his sides, hands gently running through his hair, sucking on his tongue, cupping his face in his hands, smiling midway like he can’t stop the way his dazzling grin erupts on his face, dimple deep on his cheek.

Jongdae warms up every time Yixing smiles at him like that, because he knows that it’s for _him_ and no one else that Yixing looks that way.

“Is this-?” Yixing curls the fingers inside him and he nods eagerly, mouth falling open as he mumbles, _“fuck_ ”, arms tightening around Yixing’s chest.

“Do it now, I’m good, I swear.” Jongdae promises, so Yixing carefully slides his fingers out and wipes them off with the tissues from the box on the bedside table. There's a crackling noise and Yixing's rolling the condom on fluidly.

“Didn’t you want to be on top?” He asks, and Jongdae lights up, nodding and crawling back into his lap.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Yixing warns, kissing him again and then settling back on his forearms. His smile widens as Jongdae raises himself up and grabs his dick, positioning it under him.

“Did you just insult my dick-taking skills?” Jongdae cries in pretend outrage, “I’ll have you know that I’m the best at taking dick in this entire dorm!”

Yixing’s laughing so hard that he has to cover his mouth with his hand, letting his head rest on Jongdae’s shoulder. Jongdae rolls his eyes and starts sliding down, scrunching his nose when the crown of Yixing’s cock stretches him open.

As soon as Yixing’s laughter stops, he starts pressing little kisses to the underside of Jongdae’s jaw, one of his hands resting at Jongdae’s waist.

Jongdae talks during sex. Not because he likes to talk during sex, but because he can’t help it. He’s probably the one of the loudest ones in the band and it definitely shows with the way he ends up gasping and spouting a nonsensical combination of Korean and Mandarin all jumbled together.

That’s why he can’t help the loud gasp followed by _“Fuck fuck_ oh my _god_ Hyung,” when Yixing twitches his hips up and bottoms out inside him.

The feeling of being full of cock is in no way unfamiliar but that doesn’t mean it’s not uncomfortable at first, and Jongdae is the twitchiest person ever so he squirms awkwardly until it’s no longer as painful before he starts moving.

He bounces up and down a couple times experimentally and smirks when Yixing’s arm on his waist tightens by a fraction of an inch, then slithers up to draw him down to kiss him.

“Is that good?” Jongdae asks, and Yixing nudges his cheek with his nose and rolls his eyes.

“Is it good for you?” Yixing asks suddenly.

Jongdae smiles and shrugs, fingers curling loosely through Yixing’s soft hair. “S’alright.”

“We could try this.” Yixing suggests, and suddenly he’s sitting up all the way and holding Jongdae tightly against him by the waist. He starts rocking them together and Jongdae gasps.

“ _Please,”_ he cries, burying his face in Yixing’s neck. “Just like that oh god, please,”

Yixing kisses the top of his head and presses deeper into him, smoothing long fingers up and down his back until Jongdae’s body goes pliant.

“Can I touch you?” When Jongdae glances up, Yixing is wiggling his fingers playfully, smile tugging at his lips.

“Hell yes,” Jongdae presses a kiss to the indent of his dimple and watches as Yixing slides a hand between them and wraps it around his cock, jerking him off with slow, measured strokes that have Jongdae’s thighs trembling and his mouth falling open.

He moans, loud and breathy and rolls his hips, head tilting back.

Yixing’s cock shifts inside him and then he’s crying out and gasping, “Holy fuck _oh_ , _Hyung_ , fuck,” body stiffening and then twitching hard as he comes. He feels the tugging sensation deep in his stomach, and he hangs on tightly to Yixing, splattering hot up his own chest.

Yixing fucks him through it, moaning softly when Jongdae’s ass constricts around him. Jongdae’s chest heaves as he tries to regain his breathing and as soon as he gets it back he starts bouncing quickly on Yixing’s cock. Yixing’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open.

Jongdae grins and murmurs into his ear, “I told you no one can take cock like I can,” and the words are supposed to be joking but Yixing visibly _shudders_ and pushes Jongdae until he’s on his back, Yixing between his legs.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and his voice sounds rough and strained.

Jongdae nods and immediately Yixing pulls his legs farther apart and starts pushing into him harder, lithe dancer’s hips moving quickly against him until the obscene noise of skin slapping skin overwhelms Jongdae’s ears.

It sends aches of desire shooting to his stomach and he’s not sure if he can go another round but _holy fuck_ he wants to.

He looks up and Yixing has his eyes closed, pale eyelids twitching, eyebrows drawn up in concentration. Jongdae wants to touch his face but it’s so beautiful he doesn’t want to mess up the image.

“Are you _still_ that hard?” Yixing asks in disbelief as his eyes flutter open. Jongdae glances down and to his own surprise, his cock lays hard against his stomach.

Jongdae smiles widely and drags Yixing down by the hair to press a kiss to his lips and murmur, “I’m like magic.”

Yixing laughs at that, shoulders shaking a little, and he whispers, “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Fondness apparent in his voice.

“You should come inside me.” Jongdae suddenly says, and Yixing bites his lip and muffles a moan at that.

“Don’t say stuff like that!” he gasps out, face flushing pink.

“Hyung. You. Should. Come. In. My. Ass.” Jongdae enunciates each word and when he finishes Yixing’s moaning out loud and  pushing one last time before he’d coming, body bending over Jongdae so much that he’s nearly bent in half, and to his delight, it’s all inside.

He nearly falls on top of Jongdae then but Jongdae sees his arms go taut and catch him.

Jongdae smiles up at him, wide and genuine and Yixing fucking _beams_ back, brushing sweaty hair away from his forehead with gentle hands and lets him sit up.

“Do you want me to blow you?” he asks, gesturing to Jongdae’s cock, which, embarrassingly enough is already leaking.

“If you want to…” Jongdae glances up slyly through his eyelashes. “Only if you swallow, though.”

Yixing immediately dimples and kneels down in front of him, taking his cock in long thin hands and starts mouthing up the side.

“Keep still.” He instructs, and Jongdae nods seriously. He keeps his hips from moving when Yixing wraps his pink lips around the head of his cock and sucks, cheeks hollowing out to reveal high cheekbones. He glances up through his eyelashes and pulls off for a second to smile encouragingly.

Then he’s back on it and Jongdae whines low in his throat, trying to keep from moving his hips restlessly as he takes more and more of him down, stopping right before he hits his throat.

Yixing swallows around him and Jongdae whines brokenly, trying desperately not to move. Yixing finally pulls off and jerks him off quickly, murmuring praise into his ears.

“So pretty, Jongdae, you’re so good,” he mumbles, pressing Jongdae against him with his free hand. Jongdae comes for the second time keening against the junction of Yixing’s shoulder, riding out his orgasm into his steady hand.

“Oh.” Yixing says as if he’s suddenly realized something, “I didn’t swallow.”

“I love you.” Jongdae blurts out and what the fuck, Yixing’s usually the one who says all the lovey shit, but Jongdae can’t help it; Yixing is everything.

Yixing smiles so widely that Jongdae wonders if his face hurts.

“You’re the cutest.” Yixing declares, “And I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://eatjinsass.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/whinytaeyong) come hmu


End file.
